“Hast thou Virtue? Acquire also the graces and beauties of Virtue.”—Franklin.
I had read that Philadelphia’s hospitality was her great virtue, and that it was characteristic of her people to bestow upon the stranger and the homeless—who are and who come within her gates—a blessing of care and kindness nowhere else known,—to make them feel that at last they have found a haven.
The first Philadelphia police officer I met I asked several questions about the city. His manner toward me was a surprise. He seemed very willing to talk with an apparently homeless man. We spoke of a number of things, among them the Philadelphia Coat of Arms which ornamented his hat, representing the shield of honor and the scales of Justice. I said, “It is beautiful and stands for a high ideal.” He replied doubtfully, “Yes, if it is carried out.”
I then strolled down to the corner of Eleventh and Race Streets, and seeing another policeman I approached him with the question:
“Where can a fellow get a free bed?”
He looked at me in surprise.
“I don’t know. You might go down to the station house on the next corner. They may give you a bunk.”
I walked slowly down to the station house. Was it possible that in that great city of “Brotherly Love,” its police could not direct a destitute man or woman, boy or girl, to a place of rest, to a home of shelter,—to be fed and given comfort and good cheer,—except to a jail and behind iron bars?
I entered the station where there were a number of men around the desk. I asked the Captain where a penniless man could get a free bed. He asked,
“Haven’t you the price of a bed?”